Buffalo (ˈbʌfəˌləʊ)
1.
Noun. Also called: bison a member of the cattle tribe,
Bison bison, formerly widely distributed over the prairies of W. North America but now confined to reserves and parks, with a massive head, shaggy forequarters, and a humped back.
2.
Noun. An American port city on Lake Erie.
3.
Verb. (often passive) to confuse or intimidate.
But George knew all that. Look past the old scar tissue and there’s a college boy - a Hobey winner with parts of seven seasons in the show, winning over fans one right cross at a time and hitting law books at night. And George knew something else they didn’t teach in books. He knew that Buffalo had become a treacherous shoal with a habit of making or breaking men in back in Capital City. Buffalo had been his own first real triumph, his boys making Hasek’s crew look like a bunch of schoolyard toughs back in `98. He was on top of the world back then. How things had changed; dancing cheek-to-cheek with one of the rickety slabs of wood they dare to call tables in this stinking dive. George had wanted to get farther away, farther from where he’d taken care of Gabby Boudreau - another one of Buffalo’s casualties - but the taxi drivers here all seem to spook when they find out you’re in the hockey racket. Seems like everyone knows something he doesn’t. Nervy and thE rat won’t look him in the eye. None of the people on his payroll hear anything; the redheaded dame in the penalty box, the courier in The Greek’s office, no one. When you’ve been in the game as long as George, the silence speaks volumes.
Why Buffalo? Did Miller have it in for them ever since that idiot gadfly Brooksie mouthed off about the playoffs? Was his own crew sandbagging him? Could he trust them anymore? Sasha hasn’t let him down yet, but you never know who these Russians are loyal to. Would Sasha disappear on him in February, when he needed him the most? What about his “friend†who never shows up? What are these cryptic messages about a sad dog and a buttered trolley? George had thought Oates would be the guy to bring everything together – talked the part and looked the part, sharp in a black fedora instead of Hunter’s vagabond rags - but after he hadn’t been delivering, George had someone do a little B&E job in Oates’ office to find it was full of binders full of alphabetized pictures of players’ stick curves and jars full of fingernail clippings. What could it mean? Everyone knew The Greek was getting impatient. It all felt like it was falling apart. George had run these thoughts in circles a thousand times before. There was nothing left to do but drink until the voices stopped. For a moment, his mind drifted back to Gabby and that awful night. It felt like the red would never wash out. They said those were really spicy wings, the best in town. Sure. That’s why their eyes were watering. He pulled his head off of the table to find an empty tumbler returning his own glassy stare.
“Bartend- Ll- Lloyd? “
“Yes, Mr. McPhee. Lloyd. What can I get for you, Mr. McPhee?â€
“Hair of the dog that bit me, Lloyd. Bourbon on the rocks.â€
“Of course, Mr. McPhee. Finest in the house: Buffalo Trace.â€
Buffalo.
buffalo….
